"I want Mama!"
Daryl pulled Sydney from her high chair, her uneaten meal be damned. He settled her against his shoulder. "Shh," he soothed as he set to pacing around the kitchen, "Mama's workin' . . ."
At which point Sydney stretched an arm out in the direction of Leah's office. "Mama!" she wailed.
"Baby girl, Mama can't come see you right now."
"I want . . . I . . . Mama!"
Daryl sighed. "I know . . ." Fuck pacing. It wasn't helping her. He fell back against the glass door. It was too warm.
"Mama . . ." Sydney pressed her face into his shoulder, her whole body shaking, one fist yanking at Daryl's shirt and one yanking at his hair. "Mama . . ."
Daryl flinched, but he rubbed Sydney's back and eyed one of the archways, envisioning Leah appearing, imagining Sydney's cry of glee at seeing her . . . But he knew better. A schizophrenic, Leah had told him shortly after coming home, as she made a pot of coffee to get her through the night, who is almost certainly a rapist and possibly guilty of either a completely idiotic manslaughter or one of the most perfect murders I have ever heard of. And I'm supposed to defend him, this . . . absolute bastard . . . and I can't even fucking drink.
"Please, Daddy?" Sydney said, her voice muffled. "Please, please . . . Mama . . ."
"Aw, Syd . . ." Daryl glanced over his shoulder, out at the backyard, full of shadows. The sun had just set, the sky was a deep, glowing blue, growing darker and darker each second.
An idea came to him.
His hand found the knob. "Here, look – "
He took them out into the air, hot but tempered by a soft breeze. The moon was glowing, the stars were beginning to peek out, but they weren't what Daryl was interested in. "You and me're gonna go for a little walk, 'kay?"
Sydney sniffled and nestled her head against his neck, turned out so she could see. Daryl crossed the lawn. The wooden fence encompassing their backyard had two gates – one leading to the front yard, one leading to the woods. Well, sort of. There was about thirty feet of just grass and weeds from the line of neighborhood fences to the thin woods beyond. That was what Daryl was aiming for. Sydney clung to him tighter as they left her familiar backyard for uncharted territory, but curiosity got the best of her, and she was quiet.
It was untouched back here. Daryl imagined he was the only one in the neighborhood who ever bothered to go beyond the fence. He kicked his way through the overgrown brush until he was at the edge of the woods, eyeing the sky. It only took him a few seconds to see what he wanted to.
"Alright." He pointed. "Look, Syd. Look up there, see that?"
Sydney twisted her head back. After a moment she said, "Bird."
"No. Bat."
"Bat," she repeated, popping her lips.
"That's right. Bats are cool. They only fly around at night. They're huntin'. They eat bugs."
Sydney scrunched up her face. "Gross."
The corner of Daryl's mouth tugged up. He'd never heard her say that word before. "Aw, bugs ain't that bad."
"Gross, Daddy."
"Fine, if you say so. Here." He kneeled down, set her on the ground. She flexed her toes against the dirt.
"Feet dirty."
"Well, you're gonna get a bath later, ain't ya? Daddy's gonna show ya somethin' cool."
"Cool."
"Cool, yeah." It was far closer to night than evening now, but between the moon and the porch lights of various yards, Daryl was able to collect a few pebbles. "'Kay, see the bats?"
"Mmhmm."
"How many?"
She swallowed. "One. One, and, um . . ."
"One, two, remember?"
"One, two."
"'Kay. Keep an eye on 'em both. Daddy's gonna trick one of 'em, not sure which. Y'know how I told ya they eat bugs?"
She nodded, eyes tracking the bats.
"Well, they ain't got very good sight, so it's easy to have some fun with 'em. Watch." He stood up and eyed the bats, almost as intently as his daughter did. It took a minute, and at one point a third bat joined, and at another one flew away, but finally one of them was right overhead – close enough, at least – and Daryl flung the rock into the air. Right on cue, as if attached to a string, the bat dived down for the pebble and got just a couple of yards above Daryl's head before it realized the venture was hopeless and swooped back up to try again.
Sydney, meanwhile, gasped.
"You see that?"
"Bat fell!"
"Nuh-uh. It chased the rock. Thought it was a bug."
Sydney tore her eyes from the sky and gazed at him, eyes narrowed. Then, suddenly, she giggled. "Daddy trick the bat."
"Hell yeah, Daddy did."
And, of course, she shouted back, "Hell yeah!"
"Shh – don't say that, babe, Daddy shouldn'ta said that. Here. Let's trick the bats some more."
"Trick, trick, trick . . ."
They stayed out there, tossing pebbles into the air and watching bats dive, for another half hour. Then Daryl's arm was tired. So, he grabbed Sydney to go back inside, only to end up sitting on the ground, her in his lap, both of them watching the sky.
"Moon."
"You know what kinda moon?"
"Happy."
"Happy? Maybe. Answer I's lookin' for was half. Half-moon. See how it ain't a circle?"
"Um, stars."
"Yep. Lotsa stars."
The breeze was still coming, thought it was getting colder. Sydney snuggled against him.
"Stay out here long enough, might see a fallin' star. Ever see one of those, you're s'posed to make a wish."
Sydney grabbed one of his hands and squeezed all of his fingers together.
"I used to wish on fallin' stars," Daryl said, brushing her hair behind her shoulders. "Don't tell no one that, it's silly. You ain't ever gonna have to do no wishin', hear me? 'Cause you got it a lot better than Daddy did."
She turned to him, blinking, before leaning forward to see behind him, into the woods.
"Hey, Syd."
She was biting her lip, watching the dark.
"Think this would be as much fun if it weren't just you and me? Baby girl, quit lookin' back there, ain't nothin' gonna get you. Hey. You know what a sister is? Or, uh, a brother?"
She had given him her attention again, though she held his arm like a stuffed animal. "Um, Unca Mull."
Daryl huffed out a breath. "That's right. He's Daddy's brother . . . Think you might like a brother?"
"Unca Mull!"
"No, not Uncle Merle. That's Daddy's brother. Your brother would be little. A baby, like you used to be. Think you'd like that? A baby brother to play with?"
"Baby . . . baby, um, baby Unca Mull?" She gave him that wide-eyed look of hers, so damn innocent, so damn trusting. Daryl loved her for that look. But it still scared the hell out of him. He didn't think it would ever stop scaring the hell out of him.
"I wasn't ready for you," he said. "Not by a long shot."
"I ready."
"But I did right by ya. Tried to. And I like ya alright, so I guess I made a good call."
Sydney let go of his arm. She straddled him and reached both hands up to rub his cheeks. "Scratch, scratch."
"But I just don't know if I can do it again," he whispered. "I love you more'n anything, kid, but I just . . . I don't know if I can do it again. Y'know?"
Her hands slipped from his face and landed on his chest. She stared into his eyes, suddenly solemn, intent. Then she grabbed his nose and broke out laughing. "'Gain!"
Daryl took her hand off, held it, and studied her. "You think I can do it again?"
"'Gain! A-gain!" She twisted in his lap, nearly fell off of it, and freed her hand to stretch it up. "Daddy trick bat 'gain!"